"Gentlemen, I would like to think we have an open agreement with one another. I help you out here, you keep the streets clean of your beef with other clubs. Now what I hear is I got a few Aztecas rolling into my streets, civilians, girls, boys, gunned down on your property. What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Chief Dave Rusor spoke directly with the club president, Oliver White. There he was, a man of the true MC Code, now considering things, Dave knew that retaliation was in order for the MC. The look in their eyes, they were pissed and rightly so, people got in their business and were going to pay. He wanted to make sure that they kept it off his streets and placed it elsewhere. 

"Davey, listen closely. I'm Estarossa Pincheel. I'm in charge of Pincheel Investment Corp. What happened was my fault, these men were brought here due to my business arrangements with them. I did not know that the local gangs did not like our presence, I had expected an assault of some kind, I did not expect bullets or otherwise to start flying."

Dave focused on the man who had placed himself into his line of sight. Pincheel Investment Corp was a well-renowned company that had once worked throughout the Buffalo and Albany businesses of New York, garnering a reputation for being something of the fix-it people of the Investment Banking world. 

"So, Mister Pincheel, can I reassure the civilian population that none of what happened here today hits our streets again. Philadelphia is quite peaceful, after the numerous mobs and fucked up gangs, we're looking to continue having the peace, can you give me that kind of reassurance?"

Estarossa gave the Chief a genuine smile that spoke of the fact that he would be keeping the bloodshed out of town. He nodded his head, turning away from the chief and walking back over to the numerous dead bodies. He noticed that there were of the Aztecas than Heavenly Host, it was a sign of power."

"We've got some news, a couple of our supply warehouses were hit, Buffalo and Albany. We've got trouble, those fucking Aztecas Man, plus our guns with the Russians, they've been stolen too. Putlova and I doubt New York will be happy to hear that they might be missing a big chunk of their profit. We promised money and power, this is a fucking war..."

Jury gave his brother-in-arms a look of steel. Jury didn't like this and neither did Estarossa, they didn't need this type of shit today. The clubs had just turned over a new leaf and were looking to build something new, there would be another meeting no doubt. With either Oliver or Estarossa leading the charge.

"Anything else? If its just Albany and Buffalo hit then it means we press the advantage. The other half of the shipment reached Philadelphia, we have a cache of Russian Weaponry, plus over a 100 Kilos of coke. We have enough to get by, we have to make sure that we send a message to these fucks...no one fucks with us! God forgave, Lucifer didn't!"

And so Esta walked off, not noticing the ends of the Fallen Angels on him, they could see that he was pissed as he entered the clubhouse, followed by Oliver, Lin, Kip, and Galen.

"Listen, lad, my charter will be ready to follow ya. We just need to know if we have the weaponry, I can make a few calls, the Irish never fail to make sure that we are stocked with some cold hard steel to send a message."

Galen, usually, the peacemaker and one to guide the younger presidents was now giving off a wave of anger that made them realize he had been President for over five years. It was clear that he didn't want this for his new brothers, they deserved better and would get better if he had anything to say about it. 

"Peoria will stand with you brother, we got the guns. We have the men and we have the liquor."

It was a common business among the Peoria charter that they had control over the booze trade within Peoria, Illinois and it was something that widened their club's personal coffers. It allowed for an easy income for them, adding drugs and guns on top, it simply gave them a better deal than ever.

"Thank you but this assault, it can't go by. The Aztecas and the Host know that we are weak, we have barely established our presence among the other MCs, they gave us a chance to do so. The Angels of Death, Bastards of Hell, Grim Reapers, Roller, The Abandoned. All these clubs will be looking at us, they heard of the attack, they will want to know what we are going to do in response. So, how do we respond!?"

Kip stepped forward, his fiery orange hair making him stand out as he stroked his beard with a grin. He knew this was going to be something tricky to do but it would put the MCs on alert. It would give the others something to be worried among, the fallen angels would be feared for the next few weeks or months even.

"We string them up, we hunt them down. Someone has gotta know where the Aztecas are hold up, we find them, we find the guns and cocaine. We reach out to an MC, any one of them and we offer them a place among us, a new charter, a new start. Right here in Pennsylvania, the Aztecas would have gone to another city by now..."

Estarossa looked at the other presidents, they seemed to be okay with this idea, something that he appreciated. It was showing that even in the face of danger, they would work together to protect this new form of brotherhood that had been formed. 

"Alright, brothers, we know where we stand. We bring an MC to the table and call upon them to do a service for us, in response to this, we give them the guarantee that they will be patched over. This may not be the start we wanted but it sure is something, to our survival and our fall."